חסידים אין די מאדערענע געזעלשאפט און פארקערט.

To the man with the gray hair and two children I met
last Saturday,

We were both standing before the babysitting room at the JCC at about 9am and waited for the door to be opened. You were already there when my son Seth and I, in our signature style, came racing up to the door and stopped short near you. When the babysitter opened up and the kids filed in, I thought you and I could fit through the door at once. I went right ahead. I, being a rare breed of part Hasidic and part frazzled professor, tend to make such unusual assessments of space.

You came over to me while I was signing in and you said you had a question. You sounded so sincere. I’m a friendly person, and in a babysitting center where my kid has been a member for two years, I am eager to be helpful. I would try my best, anytime, to answer the questions of a new member and fellow parent who wants to talk to me.

I said to you “sure.”

You spoke in a calm voice:

“Do you always do that? Jump in front of people?”

I did not answer your question, because I tend to avoid conflict. Instead, I sucked my tongue back into my mouth and apologized profusely. I told you I did not mean to offend you and I was so so sorry. You glared at me and walked away. I saw you at the gym later when I was on my way to the boxing room, and you glared again. I quickly looked away

I’ve been thinking about your question all week. I’ve been thinking about it because my son overheard it, and he mentioned it later. He felt terrible about the way you spoke to me. I told him I had felt terrible too and that I wanted to answer something mean to get back at you, but that I let it blow over instead. Exercise helped. My sweet son Seth. He said “Yeah, you’re like 98% good at controlling your anger.” I hope so. In my own way I try to be a mentch

I come from the Hasidic community where it is commonplace and not considered hurtful to push someone who is in your way, or to squeeze through a crowd without saying excuse me. When my son and I visit my Hasidic family, he sometimes says that the children are “rude” because everyone is pushing and shoving. I have taken great pains to explain to him that RUDENESS is about intentionally hurting someone. RUDENESS is insulting someone in front of their kid. Patting elbows and being a little less stiff about space is hardly the world’s problem of rudeness

Maybe I always do that, I jump before people. I don’t know. Childhood habits die hard. This is how we filed onto the bus to Hasidic girl’s school: we all pushed. We all jumped ahead. While I’m now trying hard not to jump before anyone, I want you to know that I don’t think your way is The Way and The Right Way to behave. I’ve been through an unusual journey, across cultures, and I learned from both Hasidic life and Secular life about a specific danger that lurks in human nature: a tendency to use social rules to claim moral superiority. To think that because you follow the socially dictated mores, you have license to be cruel to other. To become so self-righteous as to forget all humanity. I can recognize when it happens in the Hasidic community and I can recognize when it happens at the JCC

I may walk through doors funny, but I’ve been through enough doors to have the perspective on what’s universal cruelty and what’s just culture. Sometimes, you need to forget all your culture’s rules and just judge from your heart.